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A FLORIDA HAMMOCK. 



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1907 
THE E. O. PAI NTER PRINTINCCO. 
DELANO, FLA. 






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|L'lBBARY"ofCON©HE3S| 
Two Copies Receive;! 

JAN 4 1908 

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COPY B. 






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Copyright 

1907 

by 

Hilda Muirhead Norwood. 



THE LAND I LOVE. 

The Land I love is where the south-winds linger, 
And stately palms by crystal rivers grow, — 

Where bright flow'rs bloom when Winter's chilling 
finger 
Bids other countries don their robes of snow. 

My Land's a queen o'er summer always reigning, 

. Her diadem is flow'rs and stars of night; 

Her winning smile of sunshine ever chaining 
All hearts to my dear Land of love and light. 

The Land I love is filled with mystic fragrance 

When Springtime's snows have fallen on the 
groves, — 
A Land so bright, so full of wondrous radiance 

Where beauty hand in hand with Nature roves ; 
For 'tis a Land of golden sunlight streaming 

Through dreamy air amid the forest trees, — 
A fairyland with silver moonlight beaming 

On her dear hills in benison of peace. 

The Land I love hath ruby skies at morning. 

When purple curtains canopy the dawn, 
And rainbow-tinted evening clouds adorning 

The outer fringe of heaven's golden lawn ; 
And she hath million sparkling sunbeams dancing 

Upon the thousand lakes which gem her breast; 
And glist'ning myriads of fireflies glancing 

Through twilight air when day hath won her rest. 



The Land I love hath days of brilHant splendor 

When brightest sunshine fills her azure skies; 
And soft blue nights beneath the moonlight tender 

When fairy dreams and fitful fancies rise; 
For my dear Land, it is a land dream-laden, 

Borne on the breeze, the sunshine, and the night, — 
Night silent, like a waiting vestal maiden. 

White-robed and halo-crow^ned with holy light, 

The Land I love hath robes of golden vapor 

Which clothe her hills in vails of filmy light. 
My Queen of Lands hath m-any a starry taper 

In luster shining in her crown of night ; 
And she hath groves of golden apple-bearing, — 

(The mystic fruit of ancient songs divine), — 
Where birds and butterflies, gay plumage wearing. 

Amid the boughs in brilliant beauty shine. 

My Land hath lakes which like blue sapphires sparkle 

When sun's bright scepter stretches o'er the land. 
But change to pearls when evening shadows darkle 

Upon the brightness of her silver strand; 
And she hath breezes, balmy and caressing. 

Which ozone-laden from the ocean rove. 
For Nature's bounteous God is ever blessing 

Our fair}^ Florida, the Land I love. 




THE. UPPER ST. JOHNS. 



A NEW YEAR SONG. 



The music of a thousand Jasmine bells 
Rings fairy paeans forth triumphantly; 

In ev'ry grove the joyous anthem swells 
From tender-throated birds of melody. 

Ring out, ye flow'ry bells ; sing on, O birds, 
Until your burden strike our slow dull ear; 

O Nature, chant aloud the happy words, 

"A elad New Year." 



Fair Roses, bursting forth to meet the morn 
Waft incense round on ev'ry passing breeze. 

Shy flowers look up to greet the year new-born, 
And throw their scents aloft among the trees. 

Ye subtle perfumes of the myrtle bough, — 
All mystic fragrance that doth lurk anear, — 

Breathe forth your message in this lyric now, — 

"A sweet New Year." 



That shining vault of heaven, burnished, calm, 
Spreads over this fair earth its amber cloak 

To top with glorious crown the silver palm. 
And turn the morning mist to golden smoke. 

First morning of the year, through rosy cloud. 
The Herald of our new-born hopes, appear; 

From opalescent shadows shout aloud, 

"A bright New Year." 



Blue lake, reflecting on thy placid breast 
The marvels of the ever-changing sky,— 

Soft breezes, kissed by sweets, and balm-caressed, 
All wonder-laden as ye wander by. 

The broad palm-leaveS scarce stirring as ye go, — 
O murmur forth from waters deep and clear, 

And voices of the gentle zephyrs, blow 

"A calm New Year." 

The golden balls from laden orange bough, 

Green blades of future grain from earth that 
spring. 
And scarlet-fruited vines with snowy vow 

Of bearing many a fair and luscious thing; — 
Delicious fruits beneath the winter's sky 

That hang and ripen for our festive cheer, 
To song of birds and breath of flowers reply, 

"A rich New Year." 

O friends, loved long ago, and loving still, 

From you we claim a word this welcome day, — 

Where'er ye be, the magic whisper will 
Across the ocean to our glad hearts stray. 

Old friends or new, afar or at our side, — 

You whom the longing spirit holds most dear, — 

Give us this wish to greet the New Year tide: — 

"A love-filled year." 



YELLOW JESSAMINE. 

O the fairy peals are ringing, 
Softly, faintly, on the air; 

And the golden bells are swinging 
Where the Jasmine bloometh fair. 



Fair and wondrous is the story 
Hidden in those tiny bells, 

Gilded like the halls of glory 
Where the angels' carol swells. 



I have learned their secret lately, — 
For amid their dark green bowers. 

Decked by flutt'ring pennons stately, 
Stands the temple of the flowers. 



And those bells' sweet chiming telleth, 
That within this leafy shrine 

There the high-priest Nature dwelleth,- 
Spirit mystic and divine. 



While his dewy fingers sprinkle 
O'er the flow'rs a perfume sweet, 

We can hear the gold bells tinkle 
All around his unseen feet. 



Early in the morning riseth 

Fragrant incense through the air; 

While those bells' soft peal surpriseth 
Sleeping flow'rs with call to prayer. 



In the noontide bright and golden 
Still we hear the magic chime 

Like a story quaint and olden 
Set to wondrous fairy rhyme. 



Evening's crimson mantle falleth, 

And the night-time shades grow deep; 

Then each bell in concert calleth 
"Vespers" ere the fiow'rets sleep. 



All night incense' sweetest fragrance 
Rises from the temple bowers 

Through the moonlight's silver radiance 
From the Yellow Jasmine flowers. 



EVENING ON THE GULF. 

Still as the air where no sound we may list, 
Silvered the ocean sleeps under the mist; 
White gleam the leaves of the stately old palm,- 
Hushed in repose the fair evening lies calm ; 
Peaceful as slumber in Heaven must be 
Evening shines over the old, old sea. 

Far in the West gleams the sunset in glory, 
Hanging its clouds o'er the ocean so hoary, 
Like unto minist'ring angels of love 
Bathed in the beauty from radiance above^ 
Glorious, golden and fair as could be. 
Far away over the old, old sea. 

Ocean is gray, for the ocean is old, 
Clouds are so young, and these clouds are all gold ; 
Golden-haired daughters of ocean are they. 
Floating above the old father so gray, 
Bending their lips downward, smiling in glee, 
Tenderly kissing the old, old sea. 

Silver the tint of the sky and the land; 
Ocean is sleeping 'neath eve's silver wand; 
Golden the glow from the clouds in the west. 
Golden the dreams when the world is at rest. 
Vision of glory, O mortal to thee, 
Clouds of the sunset, and old, old sea. 



A SONG OF SPRING. 

Birdling, I pray thee a carol to sing, — 
Sing me a song of the coming of Spring, — 
Roses are bursting and Jessamines bloom, 
Orange sends forth her fragrant perfume. 
Winter is brief in my country so bright, — 
Borrow your theme from the flowers' delight. 

Sing me a lyric in tenderest voice. 

Sing as you do to the mate of your choice ; 

While light is streaming in joy through the land 

Tell me of everything beauteous and grand. 

As 'mid the gladness of Nature you say, 

"Good is this great world, this wide world is gay." 

What though to-morrow brings sorrow and pain, 
Surely to-day we'll let happiness reign; 
Just for to-day in the sunshine of love 
Bask amid fragrance that filleth the grove. 
Glad to believe that the whole world is true. 
Trust it together, both I and you. 

Some day the springtime will be past, 
Youth's fairy blooms may not evermore last; 
Silent our songs will grow, your song and mine, 
Stiller our joy will flow, my joy and thine. 
Earth hath its work which it calls all to do; 
We have to share it, both I and you. 



10 



But for to-day will a silver prayer, 

Wafting our praise through the golden air, 

Mounting from realms filled with beauty and love, 

Find a glad echo in Heaven above^ 

Pouring out thanks with our joy in the Spring: — 

Minstrel of Nature, I charge thee to sing. 



11 



ORANGE BLOSSOMS. 



Hath famous sculptor of old Greece 
With skillful chisel carven these? 
Or did Italian artist trace 
Each tiny petal's fairy grace? 

And was Carrara's marble brought 
To form each dainty clustered knot? 
Or was it alabaster rare 
The workman used with pride and care? 

Did potter choose his finest clay 
To mold each lovely chalice? say; 
Or whitest silk did weaver send 
Such snowy grace each bud to lend? 



Did silversmith his ore refine 
And lightly trace each mystic line? 
Or skillful fingers use their power 
From mobile wax to form each flower? 



If these did not, then say what man 
Hath formed them on so choice a plan; 
Who hung them on the boughs of green 
Like snowflakes on the branches seen; 



12 



■^UsJ^.1; 







SOME FLORIDA PALMS. 



Who had the skill and grace divine 
To trace each faintly penciled line : — 
To paint each petal purest white 
Which shineth on our raptured sight. 

Did oriental perfumes will 
With richest scent each cup to fill? 
O ye who can, will tell me whence 
There came this lovely wonder hence? 



From out the darksome ground, ye say. 
What? Did it come from sand and clay? 
What great magician had the power 
To conjure forth the magic flower? 



'Twas that Magician who supreme 
Did all things form that fairest seem; 
He placed each beauteous chalice there 
And filled it with its perfume rare. 



And greater myst'ries thou'lt behold: — 
Each cup doth hide a ball of gold. 
Yea more — each wondrous flow'ret fair 
Hath unborn fruit-trees in its care. 



And these again will one day show 
Blossoms as fair as now do blow; 
So wondrous this Magician wise, 
So great His works are in our eyes. 

13 



We do not know what power He brought. 
With what materials He wrought; 
But this we know — that only He 
Could make such fairy flow'rets be. 

Could fill them with the store of gold 
Each silver basket doth unfold; 
Or in their wondrous depths have pent 
So rare a perfume's gracious scent. 

And still dost thou not know His name, 
Though ev'ry flow'ret breathe His fame, 
And ev'ry tree of Him doth show 
His praise by all the buds that blow? 

Go, search among these snowlike flowers; 
His name is whispered in their bowers. 
For there His magic feet have trod. 
Men call Him "Nature,"— angels, "God." 



14 



A FABLE. 



There sat a bird 'mid orange bowers, 
Her tone was soft, and sweet her lay; 
Her tone was soft, and sweet her lay, 
'Twas to her love I heard her say 
"O Love, I judge the world through thee; 
Will it be false or true to me?" 



Now mourning on the silver spray 
She sat where blossoms dropped away, 
Their fragrance and their beauty spent; 
Her song was one of discontent. 
"The world is false, is false," sang she; 
"My Love he hath been false to me." 



She sat again upon the bough. 
Her notes were clear and joyous now; 
Her world was full of love and light, — 
The sky was gay, the flowers were bright. 
"The world is true, is true," sang she; 
"My Love is all the world to me." 



15 



THE MAGNOLIA. 



There are Roses in the garden, 

Roses crimson^ pink, and white; 
There are tall and stately Lilies 

Clad in garments fair and bright. 
There are flow'rs in form and color 

Very wonderful to see, — 
But the queen of all the blossoms 

Reigns from the Magnolia tree. 

There's the gorgeous drooping Myrtle, 

And Cape Jasmine's fragrant white; 
There's the flaming Oleander, 

Glorious blooms of beauty bright. 
But no flow'r within the garden — 

Fair and fragrant though they be — 
Is the Queen of all the blossoms; 

'Tis on the Magnolia tree. 

Where the scarlet Trumpet-Creeper 
Opes his brilliant fiery buds. 

And the Yellow Jasmine twining 
Fills with fragrance all the woods, 

Flowers shine in untold beauty. 
And the fairest there we see; 

For the Queen of all the blossoms 
Opes on the Magnolia tree. 



16 




FLORIDA FLOWERS IN MIDWINTER. 



Pure white flow'r, in starlike beauty 

'Mid your dark green leaves you shine; 
Emblem seem of all things holy, 

Seem to come from realms divine. 
For fair fancies twine around you 

Till from Heaven you seem to be, — 
Angel-Queen of all the blossoms, 

Flow'r of the Magnolia tree. 



What the message that you carry? 

O Queen-blossom, ope to view 
All the lessons pure and holy 

Nature's God hath hid in you. 
For the God of Nature teaches 

Holiness and purity 
Where the Queen of all the blossoms 

Shines on the Magnolia tree. 



17 



PLUMBAGO, (blue). 

Where did you come from, you fairy flow'r? 

I came from a great Magician's bow'r. 

He stole from the sky for my robes' pale hue 

The lightest tint of the sunset's blue; 

And he fashioned me like a rare sweet star, 

And bade me blossom where mortals are. 



He gave me leaves of the softest green 

Like a cloak of the glorious emerald sheen. 

He made me seem such a fragile thing 

That those who look may know I bring 

A thought from on high, and a message divine 

On those airy wings where my blossoms shine. 

Ev'n as my bloom's unsullied hue 
Was the soul my Maker gave to you; 
Fair as an angel's spotless wing 
It left His soul, a precious thing; 
It came to you like a star of light. 
The rarest flow'r in all His sight. 

What is it now? Is it fair and true? 

As a blossom pure is it kept by you? 

Doth it shine so bright that all may know 

The blessing thy soul is sent to bestow? 

For the flow'rs and the spirit of man have each 

A mission on earth and a lesson to teach. 



18 



ON THE PIER. 

List I to songs the ocean voices sing, 

Learning the burden which the night-winds bring, 

Watching the stars above me shimmering. 

Give me the kisses ocean breezes blow, — 
Give me the gems those starry heavens show; 
Care I for love and wealth to-night? Ah no. 

For who would wish the store man counts in gold 
While winds and skies their treasures great unfold, 
And soul and mind in dear enchantment hold. 



And who can know a loneliness of heart 
While Nature filleth with her magic art 
And sweetest minstrelsy the winds impart. 



Come winds, — with hidden stores of music filled; 
Come winds, — in richest drops of health distilled; 
Come, help me fairy palaces to build. 

Castles whose air-wrought edifice must fall. 

Still let me rear them, though ethereal; 

What though they vanish? 'Tis the fate of all. 

What though they vanish? Is there nothing then 
But just to dream and wake, and dream again? 
Is there aught steadfast? Tell me where and when. 



19 



Yea, from the shore of one unchanging Sea, 

From confines of the evermore To-be, 

Comes there the gracious whisper, "Follow Me." 

This is the murmur in the winds I hear; 

Down through the centuries these words they bear 
All else hath vanished — this remaineth clear. 

Hark to the music of a Saviour's call — 

Borne where the winds are sweeping ere they fall, — 

Grandly triumphant, rising over all. 

This is the message from the boundless sea, 

This is the whisper from eternity. 

From shore to shore it urges "Follow Me." 



20 



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A WHISPER FROM THE ROSES. 



My garden fair 

Hath lovely things, 
Hath treasures there 
Of fiow'rs and wings; 
For butterflies will hover o'er the posies, 
And birds will sit and sing among the Roses. 

Sometimes I find 

A sermonette 
Is left behind 
For me to get. 
'Tis sweetly packed in Nature's honeyed doses 
And laid among those fragrant crimson Roses. 

For when I let 

Fair petals drop, 
And wish that yet 

My shears might stop, 
And leave sweet life where fullest bloom uncloses, 
She whispers, "Then you'll ne'er have better Roses." 

And so I go 

Relentless on, 
But as I throw 

Each blossom down 
It whispers back, "When God from life proposes 
To cut the sweet, it is for fairer Roses." 



21 



THOSE TELL-TALE ROSES. 



One day a lover brought a maid 

A bunch of summer's glory, 
All pink and white and red and gold, 

Bearing a beauteous story; 
For though no word or look from him 

The hidden thought discloses. 
Someone had whispered it unto 

Those little tell-tale Roses. 

So ev'ry little Rosebud said, 

"We know somebody loves you, 
And we will tell it you, although 

He waits until he proves you." 
So what he had not told to her 

She found out from the posies. 
And learned a lover's secret from 

Those little tell-tale Roses. 



22 



NIGHT BLOOMING CEREUS. 



Art thou too pure for Sun's fierce gaze that thou 

dost bloom at night? 
Art thou afraid Day's toil might soil thy blossoms 

purely white? 
Why dost thou fear the Sun's bright glance? Why 

shrink to lend thy grace 
To glorify Day's radiant hours more than a little 

space? 



When other flow'rets hang their heads — in sleep 

their petals fold, — 
Then from that bud so tightly closed thy beauty is 

unrolled. 
Thou as the Moon doth rise to reign, and looketh 

down on thee, 
Reflectest back her pearly light, as fair a thing as 

she. 



Methinks that somewhere I have read of spirits fair 

and bright 
Who guard the pure-souled from all harm through 

silent hours of night. 
Thy garments white tell me of these, as through the 

moonlight pale 
I see thy beauty softly gleam within that silver vail. 



23 



O nun-like flow'r, who shrinkest from the worldly- 
gaze of men 

And 'neath the night-shades veil thy charms to bloom 
in beauty then^ — 

A spirit from a purer realm, thou through the silent 
hours 

Like to a guardian Angel bright dost watch the 
sleeping flow'rs. 



21 




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A LAKE SCENE. 

O lovely lake, encircled by low hills, 

Thou liest at our feet a gem most rare. 
The Zephyr's music all the woodland fills 

Where stately forest trees thy guardians are. 
Thou jewel from heaven formed, thou living thing, 

Much dost thou tell to us, of life to show, — 
Thy ever-varying hue, thy waters bring 

Fair thoughts to those who beauteous things would 
know. 

When eastern skies day's dawning glories flush 

With richest red and deepest amethyst, 
Then on thy surface glows the rosy blush 

Where dawn's bright lips thy sleeping waves have 
kissed. 
A radiant gem with Nature's beauty glowing — 

A Ruby thou, fair lake, doth seem to be: — 
A living jewel whose crimson tones are showing 

The burning ecstasies life's morn doth see. 

But pales the red; morn's glories leave the sky 

As childhood's dreams from our horizon fade. 
A brilliant Sapphire 'neath noon's sun doth lie. 

Reflecting back the heavens' azure shade. 
As fair and bright as those deep waters blue 

Are all the hopes and plans and joys of youth; 
Most glorious in thy celestial hue. 

Meet symbol thou of all eternal truth. 



25 



A Topaz thou when sunset's amber light 

Doth hinge the heav'n and earth with bands of 
gold; 
A yellow gem in shade divinely bright 

Shines where thy deeps such wondrous beauties 
hold. 
Maturest manhood's hours see from the seed 

Planted with toil along life's rugged way 
Richly the golden harvest forth proceed; 

Life's noblest actions gild his closing day. 

Gone the rich flush of glory. Now the night 

Her silver reign doth sway, and thou dost gleam 
In rarest charm and beauty like a white 

Pure Diamond beneath each soft moonbeam. 
Peaceful and calm as thou old age should be, — 

The fitting end of life well-spent and true, — 
As pure, as fair, as white, the soul to see 

Its Maker soon, O moonlit lake, as 3^ou. 



26 



THE MOCKING BIRDS' MUSIC LESSON. 

Minims slow, — 
Crotchets so, — 
Warble all your quavers; 
Faster yet 
When you get 

Demi-semi-semi-demi-demi-semiquavers. 

1 

Clear and strong 
Send the song, — 
Never voice that wavers; 
At the end 
Trill and blend 
Demi-semi-semi-demi-demi-semiquavers. 

Murmur next 
Soft unvext 
Notes of woodland savors; 
Whistle then 
Once again 
Demi-semi-semi-demi-demi-semiquavers. 

Quaver, quiver. 
Shake and shiver 
All your semiquavers ; 
At the last, 
Very fast, 
Demi-semi-semi-demi-demi-semiquavers. 



27 



GOLDENROD. 

Where waving grasses in our forests blend 
And southern zephyrs to the woodlands lend 
Their music, murmuring amid the pines, — 
There feathery Goldenrod in sunlight shines. 

Waving its yellow cap to ev'ry breeze, 
Or bending down its head in careless ease, 
Or tossing fitfully its plumes around, 
Or beating cadence to the gentle sound 

Of Nature's music in the pine-tops tall. 
Where, sighing faintly, autumn breezes fall, 
And seek to woo the golden-crested flower 
By ev'ry artful means within their power. 

But when the breezes pass, it stands in pride 
As if th' alluring sunshine it defied; 
And in its light and golden plumes' free grace 
Reflects the splendor of the sun's bright face. 

Come; search with me the bounteous Goldenrod 
Where'er it shows its yellow head abroad 
In regal grace among the sunny flowers, — 
From North to South the pride of Autumn's hours. 



28 




DeLEON SPRINGS— "THE FOUNTAIN OE YOUTH. 



AFTER THE FREEZE. 

Lo, the Frost-King set his foot-step on the threshold 

of the day, 
Stole the fairest of our beauties, culled their fragile 

life away, 
Laid a hand with doom sore freighted on the choicest 

of the grove; 
Death and desolation wander where his icy footsteps 

rove. 

All the glory of the Rosebuds fled before his chilling 

breath, 
And the crimson Oleander knew his voice the knell 

of death; 
Gone the beauty of our Lilies — gone the Guava's 

leafy grace; 
Faded hath the smile of sunshine on the Jasmine's 

golden face. 

See the proud and stately Mango, brown and dry 

and withered now; 
And the silver crown is lifted from the Date-palm's 

noble brow. 
Who hath caused such devastation? who such curse 

our homes hath brought? 
Who bore Florida such malice? who our land such 

mischief wrought? 



29 



Yet the while I stand complaining, seems to me a 

voice doth ring, 
" 'Tis the Lord hath sent the terror; 'twas Love's 

hand hath done this thing. 
Do you know the secret workings of your God's 

Almighty grace? 
Have you pierced the deep recesses of His wisdom's 

hiding place? 

"By the breathing of His nostrils He has blasted all 
your hope. 

And His children in the darkness of their faith may 
blindly grope. 

Yet the Lord who rules the ice-king, rules the bud- 
ding of the flower^ 

And can once more make your country verdant as 
Elysian bower, 

" 'Tis His hand that giveth all things, — hath it ever 
failed thee yet? 

Nay; as surely as spring's blossoms shall with morn- 
ing dew be wet 

He our homes forever guardeth; — peace and plenty 
still will make; 

He who took will give abundance — He who gave 
may surely take." 



30 



THE SOUTHLAND. 



The charm of the Southland is o'er me — 

Its glamor encircles the soul ; 
I see not the scene that's before me, 

Nor list to the music's soft roll. 
My heart is away in the Southland, 

'Mid orange, palmetto and pine; 
The Southland, the Southland, the Southland, 

For that dearest country is mine. 



The voice of the Southland is calling, 

Inviting its wand'rers home; 
How^ sweetly its echoes are falling 

On hearts that are longing to come. 
For oh, they are loved in the Southland, 

And bound by the tenderest ties. 
The Southland, the Southland, the Southland, 

Dear land of the sunny blue skies. 



31 



ST. VALENTINE. 

Now welcome dear St. Valentine 
Who comes through groves of palm and pine,- 
Jasmine and roses in his hair; 
His feet drop violets here and there; 
His hands are filled with orange-bloom, 
His breath is sweet with its perfume. 
A gift to thee, O maiden fair! — 
A loving heart — the .saint doth bear. 
He whispers in the song of birds, 
And murmurs through the breeze his words. 
He counsels maid and ardent youth 
To fondest vows and purest truth; 
And they who worship at his shrine 
Must heed the charge of Valentine. 



The Old Story. 

Only a red Rose, so fragrant and double, 

Rich with the tints of the sky at the dawn, — 

Yet it has driven away all my trouble, 

All of the gloom from my heart has been drawn. 

What is your magic, O lovely and sweet, 

Cheering the faint heart, and strengthening thus? 

Still the old story the Roses repeat, 

"God cares for 3^ou — for He careth for us." 



32 



WENONAH OR THE LEGEND OF 
SILVER SPRING. 



I. THE CHOICE. 

"Wenonah! Wenonah! 

Awake and choose thy love ! 
For many chiefs have come 

Their love and might to prove; 
No more thy maiden eyes 

May slumber in the night : 
Thy heart must be the prize 

Of one true warrior's might. 
Choose, daughter, choose 

The brave thine heart desires; 
Yet let not love refuse 

Mate worthy of thy sires." 

Wenonah heard. 

Roused was the Indian maid; 
The sleeping eyelids stirred, 

And she awoke dismayed. 
"Yea, Father, will I come," 

Then soft, "But how to choose? 
My lips perforce are dumb^ 

My voice I cannot use; 
For but to speak the name 

Of him I love the best 
Would rouse the fiercest flame 

In my dread father's breast." 

33 



"Obedient, Sire, I come, 

But amid all this band, 
For none, I leave my home. 

To none, I yield my hand. 
These chiefs are brave, dread Sire; 

Perchance another maid 
May look with fond desire, 

Where I am but dismayed." 



"Hush ! hush ! Wenonah, hush ! 

Obey thy sire and choose." 
So sang the mocking thrush 

In words the songsters use. 
But sighed the passing breeze 

In numbers through the trees, 
"Wenonah! Wenonah! 

Brave Chuleotah's dove! 
Sin not against thy love. 

Oh ! maiden, constant prove. 
Wenonah, wait." 



In all her charms displayed. 

Forth stood the beauteous maid; 
Around her hung 

Tresses of jetty black, 

Flinging the sunlight back. 
How oft those charms were sung 

Around the warriors' feast: 
At some great chief's behest 

Wenonah's praise had rung. 



34 



Now each assembled chief 

Inflamed with sudden ire — 
The anger and the grief 

Of unfulfilled desire — 
Spake to the Indian sire : 

"Appoint us all a task ; 

We do what thou wilt ask; 
And who doth worthiest prove 

Shall be Wenonah's love." 

Then, like a blast of fate, 

Spake Okahumchee's voice: 
"A silly girl doth prate, 

Now, maiden, take thy choice 
Say whom thy soul desires, 

And murmur but his name, 
And he shall be thy spouse 

Or, die a death of shame." 

"Wenonah ! Wenonah !" 

Thus sighed the mocking bird, 
"Fateful thy father's word; 

Truth is it thou hast heard. 
Wenonah, hush!" 
Vainly the warning thrush 

Bade the dark maid beware. 
Dawned on her cheek the blush, 

Back streamed her raven hair. 
"Sire, shall I speak it then? 

One among all brave men 

Seems to me first. 
Yet can I hardly dare 

35 



His name to breathe on air. 
How wouldst thou that name bear 
Thou hold'st accurst?" 



Stern grew the father's brow : 
"Maiden, speak quickly now, — 

Breathe but his name; 
Then once again I vow 

For bride he doth thee claim ; 
Or, die a death of shame." 

Quivered the maiden's form, 
As if she felt the storm 

Which on her words should burst. 
"Dearest of all brave men 
Is Chuleotah then. 

Now let me hear thy worst." 

His sudden anger raised, 

Its lightning fiercely blazed : 
"My vow I keep. ' 

To Chuleotah's hut 

Haste, chiefs, and tarry not. 
Bid him, whose name I hate. 

My daughter come to mate; 
Bid him his love to claim. 

The bride that's yours by right; 
Tell him to win by might. 

Or die a death of shame. 



36 



II. THE WARNING. 

"Wenonah! Wenonah! 
Hie swifter than the deer. 
Oh! thou art fleet of foot, 
But danger presseth near. 
Lo! many a maddened brave 
Is treading on thy path : 
And thou thy love would'st save 
From a dread father's wrath. 
Fly! wouldst thou be the wife 
Of him who slays thy chief? 
Speed, maiden, for dear life! 
Haste! haste! the time is brief. 

Fast, maiden! faster yet! 
With breathless, panting speed, 
Or, ere the sun be set 
Thy love is lost indeed. 
Lo! now the trees divide; 
For here his people rest. 
Now he thy form hath spied, 
And thou art on his breast. 

"Wenonah! Wenonah! 
Why com'st thou breathless here? 
Why ev'ry tangled tress, 
And why this speechless fear? 
Wherefore this drooping frame? 
And whence these bleeding feet? 
Say why Wenonah came. 
Yet welcome art thou. Sweet.'' 



37 



"Fast from an angered father's ire 

Hath thy Wenonah fled; 

And on the thorn and on the briar 

Wenonah's feet have bled. 
Oh! quickly summon all thy braves, 
Or thou and they fill unknown graves, 
And thy Wenonah be the wife 
Of him who takes her lover's life." 



III. THE BATTLE. 

Wenonah! Wenonah! 
Who crouched amid the trees, 
And heard the fearful sound of war 
Borne to thee by the breeze. 
Heard Chuleotah's voice 
Hurl curses at his foe? 
And bid his thirsty spear rejoice 
In life-blood's crimson flow? 
Thy love's right arm was strong 
To deal the fatal blow: 
And of the brave among that throng 
Laid many a chieftain low. 

List while I tell the tale 
Of all that chanced that day : — 
Hold for a time thy fears in sway: — 
Lull for a space thy heart to sleep : — 
And then — if Indian maidens weep — 
Well may thy tears prevail. 



38 



And blame not, maid, that I have tarried long; 
For as I came I saw a motley throng: 
I saw the human dwellers of the wood, 
Clad spear and bow, a mighty multitude. 
I heard the hateful words that mortals use 
As on his foeman each heaped foul abuse. 
But over all I heard a maiden's name: 
"Wenonah! Wenonah!" oft and oft it came. 

"Wenonah!" shouted Okahumchee stern; 

And Chuleotah's tribes the word return. 

And when that name was sounded, then I knew 

That there the horrid fight still fiercer grew — 

There deeper drank the spear — swifter the dart was 

thrown, 
And louder rose confused the yell, the curse, the 

groan,— 
Faster the arrow's straight, unerring aim, 
For ever as it went it bore Wenonah's name. 

Then rolled the fight to where the Silver Flood 
Flows down to meet the Oklawaha's stream. 
Around the Spring the thick and tangled wood 
Hid many a warrior's fall, and stifled many a scream. 
How Chuleotah fought! more fierce than all the 

rest! 
Nor mercy knew that spear — his was the ready arm — 
Valor or might to him no stranger guest: 
Foes marked his coming with a wild alarm; 
For by his side rode Death upon his quest. 



But one there was — more cunning than they all — 
Who could not win in fair and open fight, — 
Had vowed to make brave Chuleotah fall; 
Came like the evil beast that roams at night, 
And from behind plunged deep the wicked spear. 
Then Chuleotah groaned, and turned him with a 

yell- 

But wounded sore, to strike he must forbear — 
Dashed madly to the Spring, within whose depths 
he fell. 

And the pure waters took him in their arms. 
And spread them tenderly his form around; 
Soothed his vexed spirit with their potent charms. 
And bathed and staunched the ugly, flowing wound. 
There Chuleotah lay. The battle stayed. 
Fled all his tribe: — the victor claimed the maid; 
But maid they found not; so to rest they went. 
For wearied were the braves, and day was spent. 

IV. THE CALL. 

"Wen^nah! Wenonah! 

Unto thy love give ear ! 
Peare ! Calm ! thou need'st not dread, 

For none but thou can hear. 
My spirit comes to call 

Thee to a resting-place. 
Where silver wavelets fall 

On the fair Spring's crystal face. 
There shall the noble palm 

His plumes above thee wave. 



And whisp'ring waters calm 

Thy tresses gently lave; 
And wand'ring winds of balm 

Strew scents upon thy grave. 

''Wenonah! Wenonah! 

The stately cedars call, 
And beckon thee to come, 

Where wat'ry chains enthrall 
Thy heart's dear chief and home. 

The rustling silver-bay 

Is sighing, 'Come away!' 
And swaying mosses droop, 

As over me they stoop. 
And bid my spirit hie 

To win the dead chief's bride. 
And quickly with thee fly 

Beneath the moonlit tide. 

"Wilt rise and come with me, 

O thou beloved and best? 
Or, shudd'ring, turn and flee 

As from an evil guest? 
And wilt thou to those arms 

Which lately slew thy love ? 
Or, safe from all that harms, 

In spirit regions rove?" 

Wenonah heard. 
'Twas to her soul the loved voice spake; 
For nought without was stirred, 
Nor wind the silence break. 



41 



Which slept on night's dark breast. 
Swiftly the spirit-guest 

Passed through the forest 'mid the deep'ning 
night ; 

And fast Wenonah pressed 

Upon his footsteps bright. 

V. THE VENGEANCE. 

Wenonah! Wenonah! 
Silent and swift as thought, 

Thread those dark thickets deep, 
Until thou reach the spot 

Where warriors lie asleep. 
The drowsy guards hear nought, 

Nor see thy tresses gleam; 
Or, if they notice aught, 

"'Tis but some spectre dream." 

There lieth one, away 

In slumber's dreamy world. 
And there the spear that day 

At Chuleotah hurled. 
Maiden, it drank his blood! 

Maiden, why pause and think? 
What frightful thing doth brood? 

What causeth thee to shrink ?- 

Quick! lest the nightly owl. 

Disturbed, should hoot or screech; 

Or, the fierce panther growl 
The horrid feast to reach. 

42 



So like the panther, thou 
Spring fast upon thy prey. 
The spear is seized now, — 
Thy vengeance had. — Away ! 

Speed silently! that spirit leads thee on: 

And in the camp so lately passed, 
With one long, fierce, and dying groan 
His rival breathes his last : 
For deep within that hated heart 

Thy hand has sent the willing spear. 
Now through the night with light foot dart ! 
'Twas but his due. Thou dost not fear. 

(For none had taught the dark-skinned forest maid 
Of pity or forgiveness. In her breast 
The strong and noble passions fitly rest: 

But baser feelings are with these displayed. 

Blame not who ne'er was taught to keep 

A firm restraint upon the fires that leap 

Like mighty giants from the hidden soul, 

To mar and cloud the beauty of the whole.) 

VI. THE END. 

Wenonah! Wenonah! 
Why now thus doubtful stand 
At the gate of spirit-land? 

Thou fearful, trembling maid! 

O say! art thou afraid 
To leap the bars that part? 

One sudden bound from life 
Will lay thee on his heart. 

43 



The spirit now hath gone : 

But in the limpid wave 
Lies Chuleotah's grave — 
Whence comes a pleading tone — 

"Wenonah! speed thee on!" 
Fled from her lips the cry, 

"I come ! O, love ! I come !" 
Then through the waters sank 

To Chuleotah's home. 

Hush ! hush ! hush ! 
Nor let the silence stir 
On ev'ry myrtle bush, 
On ev'ry dark-browed fir. 

For heart and hand to heart and hand 
Two clasped spirits roam ; 

Searching the happy hunting-land, — 
The blessed Indian's home. 

Hush! hush! hush! 
Keep silence o'er the spring. 
Let not a night-bird brush 
The air with careless wing. 
Be still till morning wake 

The forest birds to sing: 
Then all the saddened brake 

With this lament shall ring — 
Thus sing the mocking thrush : — 
"Wenonah! Wenonah! 

No more beneath the tree, 
At dewy morning-tide, 



Shall I thy tresses see; 
No more the chieftains vie 

In valorous deeds to gain 
Smile from thy dusky eye; 

Thou comest ne'er again. 
But amorous sunbeams play 

Around the sleeping fair, 
And opal moonbeams stray 

About the raven hair." 

And thus the meek-eyed dove 
In dulcet tones of love : 

"Wenonah, sleep ! 
Adown the silver deep 
Wind those long locks round him 

Thy heart loves best, 
And on his breast 
Sleep till eternity." 

Wenonah, fare thee w^ell. 
Yet thou hast left thy spell 
Around this Silver Spring. 
The birds thy fate will sing 
When, in the far To-Be, 
The pale-face maid shall come — 
From snow-clad Northern home — 
Will tell Wenonah's history; 
And lo ! beneath these waters fair. 
Far down their crystal depths, shall be 
Wenonah's hair. 



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